Bathroom behaviour. The horns of a dilemma prod me like a honeymoon husband’s knob in a bride’s back. First conundrum:  Cold mornings and sharing a house slash bathroom. No one wants to go into the cold frigid bathroom first up. Because it’s too fukken cold!  I like to go in last,  after the tub and tiles have been warmed by megalitres of hot water and steam. But that always means the bath mat is sodden and damn near frozen when I step out of my comfy slippers onto the fukken glacial glutinous wad. I am inventing a disposable bath mat system that has a continuous but perforated mat fabric stored on a roll under the bathoroom washstand like a giant kitchen roll dispenser.  You merely rip up the disgusting mass of floor mat left for you, hurl it out the window then roll out a nice dry and clean mat for yourself. The second horn of dilemma has me stumped. Having parroted ad nauseum my dear Mater’s instructions for the correct use of the face- washing flannel thing, when I paused to consider it sensibly I realised just how how stymied I was. “Always wash your face first,” she rabbited at me, “..with the clean face cloth,  and scrub the Devil’s Kitchen area last; not the other way around.” That makes sense only of you burn the old flannel after each use. We don’t. It stays in the shower stall for a couple of months or so until it’s rigid. So I now find myself hoist by my own petard, about to start sloshing my face with a face-washer that has 24 hours previously been used to mop up a day’s worth of date sweat, follow-though and gusset-glue from the nether regions of more than a few co-habitants. No fukken wonder people at work keep asking me If I do Commando stuff at night... I have enough camouflage muck on me to be invisible standing ankle-deep in the Bolivar treatment ponds.

Gigs....

The Whitmore Hotel Morphett Street, has Shades of Blue on deck Wednesday August 4. It's a treat for lovers of Blues and Roots music with some of the city's finest musicians and singers taking turns in the spotlight. I think that was a lovely if not shitfully boring piece of prose, don't you?  Could get me a job on any newspaper entertainment column, eh?

Thursday.. or was it Friday? Fukked if I know. I asked Jeff and he told me but I must of not been paying attention because now I've forgotten what he said. Something about a Santana cover band at the Franklin. Maybe Friday? Somebody remind me, please.

Saturday night August 7 pan!c has a private show. I'm ambivalent about private shows; they generally exclude a lot of the riffraff and pawpaw-heads that turn up and annoy you at a public gig, but you can also get attacked by a type of pest that thinks he has some claim on you because someone he knows hired you to work for them. And by extension you have to do whatever he or she (yes, sometimes it is a "she") fukken says.  I'm not complaininng, but... well, yes! I am complainig. Move on.

Sunday October 8, the Wine Underground introduces Sugacane, the latest project from ex-Hiptone fellow Brother Tea. I like Bushells, myself, often buy the loose leaves - they are tastier - but you can get along to the Wine Underground on Sunday and try a cup of Brother Tea and some Sugarcane. Or Sugacane, I think it is. Obviously more "Interweb English".  Fer fuks' sake, when I went to school we were taught to spell sugar cane properly, with all the teeth-rotting implications. Off track again... gig starts around 5 pm, in the City, Pirie Street.

Monday, August 9. you can catch SWEET BABY JAMES & ROB EYERS at the Exeter on Rundl> The guys' current album Double Vooodoo Blues has hit the top of the Roots and Blues Music charts in Australia and they would like to thank you for making that possible. Not you personally, I - and they - both know you never got of your idle fukken arse to go to one of their shows or even buy a CD. Or even download it. No, they want to thank all the people that made it possible and helped them ... that's enough, it's more than the 75 words allocated for this item.

Next week though, You need to get along to the Whitmore Hotel on Friday August 13 for a Swing Dancing session with the Blues Avenue Trio.These guys swing like a ram's nutbag in the mating season and smell just as alluring... if you're a ewe. In heat.